May you land safely on your feet
by Greenz
Summary: In a world ruled by Team Plasma, to train a pokémon is to be a criminal. But that doesn't stop Nate from rising to the call of adventure. B2/W2, gameverse.
1. Chapter 1

A.N.: Welcome to my first pokémon story! I've read a few realistic pokémon AUs and loved them, and was inspired to write something in the same vein. It takes place in gameverse Unova though the plot doesn't really follow canon and there are a few original elements to it? Hope you like it.

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **A hero's life; a villain's death**

* * *

 _Some humans share a bond with pokémon that the rest of us struggle to understand. They can connect on a level beyond the emotional, deeper into the psychic and spiritual; as a result, their pokémon partners become preternaturally strong. Throughout the ages, trainers with the rare gift known as the Touch have risen to positions of great fame and power._

 _But their gift is not the only special thing about them. Invariably and without exception, sometime in their lifetime, those with the Touch meet a being of unfathomable power. One of the Ancients, the forgotten pokémon who forged our world during the Lost Era. The results of that meeting vary, but most often the Touched and the Ancient form a bond and bring about historical change._

 _N is Reshiram's chosen, but Reshiram is not the only legend whose awakening is near._

 _You're Touched, too - you are the one destined to awaken Reshiram's twin, Zekrom._

* * *

Touko dove and landed on her shoulder, grunting. The vortex of fire whooshed above her, washing heat over her back, but her armour protected her from the worst of it, and she rolled to her feet.

She hadn't even been the target of the Flamethrower attack, she'd just been in the way. The flames continued along their intended path and engulfed a Galvantula and the rider mounted on it - one of Burgh's gym trainers. The giant spider reared, screeching in pain, catapulting the trainer off. The woman landed screaming and thrashing on the ground. After only a few seconds, the screaming stopped, and trainer and pokémon were a motionless pile of flames. The stench of cooked flesh brought tears to Touko's eyes.

The enemy Heatmor that had spat out the Flamethrower grunted and straightened, licks of fire sparking around its mouth. The trainer commanding it, a young man in Team Plasma's grey armour, scanned the battlefield for his next target. His eyes landed on Touko.

 _Shit_.

"Emolga!"

Before the Plasma could react, Emolga emerged from her pokéball and burst with electricity that zapped Heatmor across the side. Touko clipped the empty pokéball back to her belt, palmed her knife and rushed in. She'd never battled a Heatmor, but she hoped it was as slow as it looked.

Heatmor spun at the last moment. The tip of Touko's knife drew a thin red line on the beast's striped belly, but its hide was too thick to be penetrated with mere human strength. Its triangular claw swung around and clipped her in the jaw, making her see stars. She reeled back as the taste of metal flooded her mouth.

"Fire Lash! Rip her apart!" The Plasma shouted from behind Heatmor, where he stood safely out of harm's way. Like most trainers, he was used to a certain way of battling where pokémon were at the front and trainers stood back. It was the legacy of peacetime, of regulation matches with rules, limitations and safety nets. Even Team Plasma, with all their preaching about equality, struggled to get rid of old habits.

Heatmor's fiery tongue shot out; Touko lifted her arm and it wrapped around her armguard, melting leather and metal down to the skin. Pain seared up to her elbow, but it only lasted a second as Emolga fell like a bullet from the sky and slammed into Heatmor's side. Knocked off-balance, Heatmor screeched and retracted its tongue.

"Fry that squirrel," the Plasma ordered.

"Double Team!" Touko hissed through the pain.

Emolga landed on the ground, then took to the air again just in time to avoid getting incinerated. Touko moved away, taking advantage of the distraction. Both Heatmor and the Plasma were ignoring her in favour of her pokémon. They had fallen into the patterns and roles they were familiar with, but this was not a regulation match; this was war.

She ran at the Plasma, grip sweaty on her knife. He wouldn't see her coming, but Heatmor with its superior instincts was a different story. Emolga's timing had to be perfect.

Unlike most people, Touko's idea of training involved fighting alongside her pokémon, improving her own skill in battle as much as her partners'. This combination in particular was one she and Emolga had used often in the wild.

She closed the distance to the Plasma and drove her knife under his armpit, between the plates of his armour, up into his lung. Her victim's face was illuminated by Emolga's Flash, a frozen snapshot of a startled expression. Pupils narrowed in pain, mouth twisted into a grimace, the bony prominences of his cheekbones highlighted like a skull's. The flash faded, and with it, his cheeks rounded out and his eyes regained their color. Younger than her. Much younger. A teenager. The realization caused her grip on the knife to slacken.

"You won't win," the boy wheezed. "The King…" He coughed, blood and spittle landing on Touko's cheek. "The King is invincible."

A _child._ Hands trembling, she withdrew the knife and slashed across his throat. His body slumped to the ground, where he lay staring up at the sky with glassy eyes.

Her stomach roiled with nausea.

A child.

 _He died for you, N._

Heatmor's furious roar snapped her out of her daze as instinct kicked in again. Emolga's Flash had momentarily blinded it, but now it was out for revenge. She spun around and got ready to deal with the pokémon - dangerous for its anger, but easier to outsmart now that it lacked a partner to direct it.

* * *

There is no time to stop and think in war. There are no nurses with Chansey standing at the ready to heal your pokémon in between rounds. There are no managers shoving files in your face with information about your next opponent. There is no opportunity to strategize as one fight is followed by the next - and the next and the next, sometimes simultaneously.

It is exhausting, each encounter wringing you dry until you think you have no more left to give - only to discover that yes, yes you do, when the only other options are death or surrender. But at the same time -

At the same time, when you can't plan ahead around an opponent's known weakness, when decisions are made in the heat of battle with nothing informing them but instinct, that's when a trainer's worth truly shines. Touko had enjoyed the championships, but there was always something calculated about them, something controlled and fake. War is raw, the essence of battling stripped down to the bones. Emolga and her move like a single entity, tearing through the battlefield like a fork of lightning. There is a primal awareness in her that knows what to do, old and buried, and she lets it guide her.

She hates the killing, but she doesn't hesitate. If she hesitates, she will lose; and if she loses, she and her partners will likely die.

* * *

"Cheren!"

His flight goggles were cracked, and he was dusty and sweaty, with his dark bangs clinging to his forehead. There were lines of strain around his eyes, reflecting the grim determination Touko felt, and a dark blood patch in his armour just above the knee. A far cry from his usual neat, well-groomed self, but at least he was still standing.

"Touko. You're here."

She'd made her way inside the castle after fighting through the courtyard, and found him in a hallway littered with rubble. Off to the side, Cheren's Serperior was taking small bites out of a Marill carcass, while a few yards away a human-shaped corpse lay on the ground, shrivelled and shrunken like someone had sucked all the water out of it.

Touko averted her eyes. "Glad you're alright. I thought you were with the flyers?"

"Last minute reassignment." He glanced at the snacking Serperior and sighed. "Where's the rest of Team Zekrom? Weren't they supposed to be with you?"

"We got separated outside." Team Zekrom had been made up of the best dragon-type trainers Unova had to offer. Their mission had been to escort her through the battlefield until she reached N. But in the chaos of the fighting, she had lost them. "It doesn't change the plan. I have to find N. It's the only way to end this."

"Agreed."

Cheren recalled Serperior and they continued through the castle together. This was the League castle, the seat of power in Unova and the home to the Elite Four, on the top of Mount Nimbus. N's forces had captured it a month ago to use it as a base of operations from which to plan their invasion of the rest of Unova.

A month later, the combined Gyms had launched an attack to reconquer it. Gym trainers and Plasmas were battling in the corridors and hallways and all over the mountain outside. The forces were evenly matched. It was carnage.

Touko knew that the only way to end it was to find and defeat N. Team Plasma's dedication to its leader was fanatical, bordering on religious; they would only surrender if he fell. Whoever won would keep the castle and decide the fate of Unova. Touko and Cheren tried to avoid the fighting, sticking to the empty side corridors as they searched for their objective.

* * *

At first glance the room appeared empty. It was dark, having no windows, and Touko blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust. A set of stairs at the other end of the room continued the climb up the central castle tower. She walked towards them, but she'd only taken one step when Emolga tensed on her shoulder.

Three shadowy shapes detached themselves from the wall, their movement liquid-sleek. They slid into position in front of the stairs, blocking her way. More wraith than human, they all had the same bone-white hair and sunken dead eyes, and all wore masks that covered the lower half of their faces. Black armour crawled over every inch of their skin. They didn't speak. They rarely did, preferring to let their poison-drenched blades speak for them.

"The Shadow Triad," Touko hissed.

They were infamous throughout Unova as N's personal bodyguards and assassins, three powerful trainers as merciless and lethal as the Dark-type pokémon they commanded. Touko's most recent encounter with them had involved waking up at midnight with a knife pressed to her throat and a cold whisper in her ear promising to flay her alive. They had spared her back then, but she had a feeling today their orders were different.

Cheren stepped in front of her. "I can do this alone. You've got bigger fish to fry."

The Triad's pokémon emerged from the shadows in the same manner as their masters. Two Bisharp dropped from the ceiling into a crouch without so much as a sound; Touko spotted a third one in the corner of the room, its scythes glinting in the darkness. Behind the Triad, a larger shape emerged, a canine taller than a human, with a crescent-shaped horn on its head. Its eyes glowed a demonic red. Absol. She'd heard of the species, but never actually faced one. They were extremely rare even in their native Hoenn, where they were believed to be bringers of disaster and calamity.

Cheren was good, but he couldn't take them alone. "I'm not leaving you behind. We'll fight together."

"You can't afford to spend your pokémon's strength here. You still have to deal with N."

Touko hesitated.

"Go," Cheren insisted. He was watching Absol, occasionally glancing at the Bisharp in the corner. "It has to be you. You're the strongest trainer in Unova. I've got this, trust me."

Although she'd been told that before, it was the first time she heard the compliment from Cheren. He'd always been too proud to admit out loud that she was better than him. She saw him in that moment; decisive and unmovable, and the way his body tensed, already strategizing. Objective-focused, so good at prioritizing. He knew what was important and what was necessary to achieve it. But more than that, he was a great trainer in his own right. The Triad were fearsome opponents, but she had to trust him the way he trusted her. If she could beat N, Cheren could take his bodyguards. "I'll give you an opening. When you're done here you're coming to help with the dragon."

"Or you finish first, and come help me down here."

"Race you?"

His weight shifted, the ghost of a smirk shaping his lips. "It's on."

The Triad and their pokémon were still, waiting for them to make the first move. Touko ran straight at them. When Absol jumped to meet her, she threw her arm over her eyes. "Flash!"

The back of her eyelids burned red as Emolga jumped from her shoulder and erupted in blinding light. Touko crossed the room and raced up the stairs without so much as a look back.

* * *

"I never wanted this."

N stood alone against the windows of coloured glass at the back of the throne room, blue and green and red fragments forming a jigsaw of patterns within patterns. The shards of multicoloured light wove around his dark silhouette like a kaleidoscope and traced jagged reflections on the stone floor. In her battle-weary state Touko couldn't help thinking that it was a beautiful sight.

He wore his usual civilian clothes, the white jacket and cap, and showed no signs of having engaged in battle. He'd been watching from up here the whole time while the people below died. It should have made her angry, but it didn't. He looked like he was as tired of the fighting as she felt.

"I didn't want a war. I wanted to do it without violence. I thought the Elite Four would cooperate, that I could make them understand. With them on my side, the rest of Unova would follow peacefully... But they did not see. It's all because of you."

Touko's hand had been inching towards her pokéball belt, but his accusation caught her off-guard. "What?"

N turned. His usually serene grey eyes were hard like steel. "They thought you would awaken Zekrom. The only reason they opposed me was because they believed you could win. Do you understand? The Elite Four, the gym Leaders, everyone believes you're chosen by destiny as I am, the only one that can match me. Even I was convinced. It was part of the formula; to change the world, first I had to defeat you."

His voice, though quiet, reverberated in the empty room. Something was off. He was different from the last time she saw him. He radiated a quiet intensity that chilled her insides.

"But you're not!" he snapped. "I was wrong. I gave you the time and the resources, and despite that you haven't awakened Zekrom. And if you can't stop me, no one can! Why, then, all this fighting, all this pointless suffering?"

She could see an aura behind him, rising from his shoulders like a coat of white flames. Whatever summoning Reshiram had done to him, it had turned him into something more than a mere trainer, something frightening.

The Dark Stone lay dormant in her pocket, dull and lifeless, as it had been since she recovered it from the Relic Castle. Maybe it wasn't the right stone, or maybe Zekrom didn't exist, or maybe Alder was wrong and she wasn't N's equal. Maybe she wasn't the Hero of Unova.

It didn't make a difference. He had to be stopped. And despite the war, despite the people she'd seen die and killed with her own hands in the last few hours, a thrill ran through her. That forgotten instinct was rising up again; she was born for this.

"People and pokémon love each other, we need each other, and for as long as you're trying to break that bond, we will never stop fighting you."

"The bond hurts pokémon!" He took a deep breath. "We never have agreed and I see now that we never will. It doesn't matter. You only have two options, Touko. You can stay and fight a hopeless battle. You'll fail, and I'll win this war anyway. Or you can turn around, tell your armies to surrender. Accept my new world. The end result will be the same, but you'll live." Then, softly, "I don't want to hurt you."

She remembered him as he was back then, in Accumula, younger and more open and wanting to learn about the world. For all his intelligence and curiosity, there were many things he'd never understood. The bond was one of them. The bond especially.

Touko released all her pokémon at once. A sleek Leavanny, fragile but deadly, who sharpened her leafy scythes against each other in preparation. Gigalith, a giant of blue rock, Touko's largest and toughest pokémon, virtually indestructible. Red veins of hardened quartz ran through her body, coalescing in razor-sharp crystals at her shoulders and head. Reuniclus, Touko's Psychic, hovered at her back. He was the only one of her pokémon who did not like battling - but was willing to do so, to protect her. And finally, Samurott, her first and oldest partner, a veteran of a thousand battles whose blue fur was criss-crossed with scars. He lowered his head, pointing his horn at N in challenge.

Emolga jumped from Touko's shoulder and landed on Samurott's back, not wanting to be left out.

Very few people ever trained more than one or two pokémon at a time. Bringing up a team of five to their last evolutionary stages was unheard of, but she wasn't called the best in Unova for nothing. Touko grinned, the weariness in her bones fading away as her pokémon's battlelust infected her veins. Save for Emolga, she'd avoided using them in the fighting, conserving their energy for precisely this moment. "We'll take the hopeless battle, thank you."

N lowered his cap, hiding his expression. "So be it. You have all chosen your fate." He thrust his arm out to the side. "Reshiram!"

The glass windows behind him exploded in a waterfall of light and coloured shards. Cracks spread through the ceiling. Rocks and tiles and columns crumbled down.

The collapse ended, and Touko looked up.

One half of the room had collapsed, and Reshiram's body took up the newly-cleared space, the twilight sky lit on fire behind it. Its pure white scales shone periwinkle when they caught the last rays of the twilight sun. Two magnificent white wings extended from its back, their shadow curving over the throne room. Its mane was a flare of white flames, flames that ran in rivulets along its body and coalesced in its tail, where scaly ribbons of flesh generated more white fire.

The fighting in the courtyard and the walls below paused as, like Touko, trainers of Unova and Plasma soldiers alike froze at the sight of the legendary dragon perched at the top of the castle. The entire battlefield held its breath, anticipating the extraordinary battle that was about to take place.

One exhale.

"Full power, give it everything you've got!"

The power herb on Leavanny's necklace burned out with the last rays of the setting sun, providing the energy for a searing Solar Beam. Wott braced himself and spat out a Hydro Canon. Emolga shot out her own Thunderbolt, the electricity merging with the torrent of water and solar energy and lighting it up with a bright blue glow. The combined attack headed straight for the dragon's chest.

In return Reshiram spewed out a purple beam of draconian energy from its mouth. The two beams met in the middle, equal in power at first, until the Dragon Breath started inching forwards.

 _Not enough._

Touko raised her hand towards Reshiram and flipped her palm down, commanding her psychic silently _._

Like a puppet on strings, Reuniclus reached out with a gelatinous appendage and mimicked the motion. _Gravity,_ trainer and pokemon thought in unison. The power of the Dragon Breath waned as the dragon's muscles fought against the invisible force trying to flatten it to the ground.

"Gigalith, ram it!"

Gigalith was slow, but once she built momentum, there was no stopping her sheer mass. And pinned down by Gravity, Reshiram couldn't dodge. The rock behemoth slammed against its side, a Giga Impact powerful enough to knock Reshiram off-balance. Its Dragon Breath veered toward the sky, where it blasted a hole through the pink twilight clouds.

Encountering no resistance, the fused beam of Wott's Hydro Canon, Emolga's Thunderbolt and Leavanny's Solar Beam hit Reshiram square in the chest, making it rear back, howling in pain; it nearly toppled off the tower. N cried out his Ancient's name.

Touko grinned ferociously. So legends did bleed. He was just a pokémon after all.

The victory was short-lived.

With a furious roar, Reshiram regained its balance and raised a massive claw, coated in white and purple flames, and slammed it down on Gigalith. The rock pokémon withstood the impact, even as the floor under her body cracked from the pressure. Until Reshiram lowered its head to Gigalith's level and opened its mouth wide.

"No! Thunderbolt!"

Emolga's lightning attacks could hurt Reshiram when combined and directed by Samurott's water, but on their own they were little more than mosquito bites, and Touko could only watch helplessly as Gigalith was engulfed by another Dragon Breath.

She'd seen Gigalith take Hyper Beams straight on and get back up as if it was nothing. Fire Blasts rolled off her rocky body like sand. She could withstand even Leavanny's Solar Beam. She was a wall, impenetrable, her blue carapace hard as diamond. As a tiny Roggenrola the stubborn ass hadn't hesitated to jump in the path of attacks, to take the hit for her allies. That pokémon was the toughest bitch Touko had ever met.

When the Dragon Breath ended, Gigalith was nothing but chunks of rubble under Reshiram's claw.

A blue rock fragment rolled to a stop at Touko's feet. She placed a hand on Samurott for balance.

"Stop fighting me!" N shouted.

Something within Touko's soul snapped. She pointed at him, loss and hatred blackening her mind. _Psychic,_ and even in her mind, the word was hissed. She could sense Reuniclus's reluctance, but she thought of Gigalith and rage surged like a tidal wave. She couldn't tell if it was hers or Reuniclus's, shared through their mental bond. She didn't care.

Touko had been the target of a Psychic attack, once. Caitlin had insisted that before one wielded the most terrible power of a Psychic pokémon, one had to experience it in her own flesh. It had been agony - like someone was carving out the inside of her skull with a spoon. If it wasn't stopped, Psychic destroyed its targets, killing them in the way of their own worst nightmares.

Touko had sworn, after the three days she took to recover from Caitlin's demonstration, that she'd never use it. It was not a weapon for battling, it was a tool for torture and a cruel way to end someone's life. The price was steep, as well; unlike other attacks of its type, Psychic drew on the user's own emotional suffering, and Touko had been wary of what that would do to her psyche.

Turns out when you're eyebrow-deep in vengeful wrath all your reservations go out the window.

N cried out and clutched at his head, falling to one knee. His nails dug into his scalp with enough force to draw blood. Touko watched as he howled, bruises forming along his jaw and cheekbones. Good. Let him feel pain. He'd crushed Gigalith like crumpling paper.

She heard someone laugh. Oh, wait, it was her.

Reshiram stepped in front of its trainer, interrupting Reuniclus's line of sight, and N's screams softened to a quiet wail.

The dragon's pupils were narrowed in fury, its nostrils flared. Its mane turned dark red, a shadow that extended to the rest of its body like a coat of pulsating red and violet energy. The demonic shroud bled into Reshiram's pupils, turning them a deep crimson, like blood. Fear burned away Touko's hysteria. "Wott, Aqua Ring!" _Light Screen!_ Wott stepped in front of her, water swirling around him, but Reuniclus, still recovering from his first use of Psychic, was too slow to react.

Reshiram opened its jaws, revealing the fire brewing inside its mouth. She only had time for a surprised exclamation before the monster spewed out a vortex of brilliant blue fire. It was brighter than any Fire Blast, so bright it hurt to look at, and she shut her eyes and covered her face on instinct.

The attack passed in a flare of agonizing heat.

* * *

The first thing she noticed was the smell. A thick and cloying stench of burnt flesh, so heavy she choked on it. Every breath was wet and burning. She pushed herself up to a kneeling position, blinking the tears out of her eyes. Bits of a cool jelly-like substance covered her arms and slid between her burnt fingers.

Oh.

In the last moment, Reuniclus had draped himself over her to protect her from the worst of the fire, and now there were pieces of him in her hair. She brought her trembling hands up to her face, watching his remains drip on the ground.

Oh.

Her chest rattled, the trapped sobs unable to escape.

She looked up to see a large smoking carcass lying before her and crawled over to it. The stench was strongest there. "Wott, hey, come on, buddy." His fur, once a deep, royal blue, was now black and grey and red where his insides were leaking, popping and bubbling as they fried themselves in his own fat. Touko swallowed against the knot squeezing her throat. "You're a water type, this is nothing to you."

The Aqua Ring hadn't been enough. He'd tried to shield her with his body, and like Reuniclus, he had paid the ultimate price. "Wott!" she cried, reaching for him.

She was a little girl again, meeting her first pokémon. His fur used to be so beautiful and soft and they'd slept curled up together, sharing their warmth under the starlight.

Now his fur was coarse and crumbled under her touch, smearing on her hands and cheek as she wept on his carcass.

He'd been a brave little Oshawott from the start of their journey. Belligerent and eager for a fight, a tiny adrenaline junkie, just like she was. She remembered how they'd sought out battles against wild pokémon and trainers alike, eager for opportunities to test themselves with the naïve enthusiasm of the young and inexperienced.

Through her tears she saw a pile of blackened roots on the ground that was all that remained of Leavanny. What had she been thinking, bringing a bug-type to fight a fire dragon? She should have- but Leavanny had refused to be left behind.

The sound of someone limping closer made her look up. N's once pristine white jacket was smeared with dirt and soot, and his face was bruised in the oddest places, in the corners of his mouth and over the bridge of his nose and in front of his ears. Blood dribbled down his nose and chin and he wiped it with his arm.

"I didn't want this," he said, his voice breaking. He took another step closer, but suddenly stopped. A weight landed on Touko's shoulder.

Emolga growled at N, showing her fangs. The flying squirrel hadn't been caught in the Fusion Flare, as she had been in the air when Reshiram attacked. She was clearly exhausted, her tiny body trembling from having emptied out all its stores of electricity. Her fur was wet with sweat and lined with tracks of soot. Despite that, Touko's youngest and weakest pokémon still hissed and spat, ready to defend her trainer with what little strength she had left.

"Thank you," Touko said, smiling through her tears. "I've lost everyone… but not you. Thank you." She wasn't alone. She wasn't the last. Emolga would live. _You have to live, for all of us._ "Return."

Emolga disappeared in a flash of red light, and Touko brought the pokéball to her lips and breathed. At least one of them would make it out. It was something.

N watched silently, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I didn't want to hurt any of you," he repeated. "Why did you fight me?"

Touko ran her fingers over Samurott's burnt fur, lost in memories of adventures long and past that would never come again. "I've told you before. You want to separate us, but a life where I'm not with them is not worth living. Your world, I don't want to live in it. And now that they're gone... let me join them."

N's breath hitched.

"Heartwrenching, truly. Granting her wish would only be merciful, son."

A man stepped out from behind a pile of rubble, followed by a sleek Liepard that curled around his legs. He wore armour, grey and white in Team Plasma's colours, his long pale hair tied back in a low ponytail. He looked completely different from the last time Touko had seen him dressed in his ceremonial regalia, but she recognized him regardless. Ghetsis.

N was arrogant and uncompromising, but at least he was earnest; he fought for others, he believed in his cause. Ghetsis, on the other hand, was just a power-hungry crone, duplicitous and manipulative like a slimy Eelectrik.

Not like it mattered anymore. In her apathy Touko didn't even question when he had arrived or how he had gotten up here. The dead didn't care of such things, and most of her soul had already died.

"It's time to end it, son," Ghetsis insisted, his voice smooth and almost gentle. "Your enemy is beaten. Deal the final blow."

Touko looked up at N expectantly, but he didn't move. His eyes were red and watery. Reshiram loomed behind him waiting for the order, not nearly half as conflicted about ending her life.

"Kill her," Ghetsis repeated, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice. "It is the only way to bring forth the new world."

It was inevitable that it would end like this. The fate that connected Touko and N was made of tangled threads pulling in opposite directions. In many ways they were kindred spirits, pitted against each other by destiny, or luck, or coincidence. They had remained in balanced tension for a long time, but in the end, one of them had to win, and the other one... the other one had to break.

N shut his eyes. "No."

"Son-"

"I said no." When his eyes opened they shone with the same otherworldly power she'd sensed from him at the start of their encounter. "There will be no more death today." His voice reverberated and seemed to reach even into Touko's dead soul.

He walked to the edge of the destroyed room and looked down at the rest of the castle, where people and pokémon waited with bated breath for the victor to emerge. The wind buffeted his long hair and lifted the hem of his jacket. Reshiram went to stand next to him, and N placed his hand on the dragon's leg; the two of them cut an imposing sight, white against the red sky. No wonder Team Plasma followed him.

Reshiram let out a deafening roar that rolled over the battlefield like a firestorm. The few combatants still fighting stopped and looked up in unison, obeying a command they could not resist.

"Trainers of Unova!" N shouted. "Your hero is beaten. You have no hope of victory. This war is over! Recall your pokémon and surrender to me, and I swear no further harm will come to any of you!"

Behind him, Reshiram spread its wings and roared again, tendrils of blue fire arching from its body. When the thunderous roar passed the silence was absolute. Then, one by one, the Unovan trainers recalled their pokémon in flashes of light. One by one, N's enemies knelt before him.

(He breathed in. It was over. The killing, the pain, the infernal carnage that he'd never wanted, it was finally over. He'd be able to build a new world, one where pokémon would never again be forced to slaughter their brethren like on this day. Never again, he swore to himself.

As their foes surrendered, the soldiers of Team Plasma erupted in cheers, rapidly rising in volume to a euphoric cacophony that rivalled Reshiram's roar.)

Ghetsis's hand, spindly and cold, clamped down on Touko's shoulder. The pressure of his nails dug into her muscles even through her leather armour. His voice was a slimy whisper in her ear. "Ah, my son. Brave, determined, compassionate. The perfect hero to rule over Unova. I made him that way, you know. My greatest creation."

She didn't reply or try to move. There was no point.

"But still. Despite that, or maybe because of it, he's always struggled handling emotions of a more personal nature. He will not harm those he holds dear, even for the greater good." His hold tightened. "You see, you poor girl, you are the hero as well, the second one, and even without your Ancient and your other pokémon, you are too big a threat."

Pain bloomed between her shoulderblades. Touko looked down at the steel blade protruding from the center of her chest, in the gap between the plates of her armour.

 _Oh,_ she thought distantly.

"It looks like you get your wish after all, Hero of Unova," Ghetsis whispered in her ear. "May you have a happy afterlife with your loved ones." He twisted the long knife, but she didn't feel it. She'd already gone numb.

She looked up just as N turned away from the crowd. His steel-grey eyes widened when he took in the scene and he raised his hand. His lips formed her name, but it was drowned out by the cheering.

And that was how Touko died, surrounded by her partners' corpses as her enemies celebrated their victory.

Emolga's pokéball, which she'd been clutching in her hand all this time, rolled onto the floor with a dull thump.

* * *

A.N So. Yep. That's the prologue. The story will follow the protagonists of W2/B2... in a world where N wins at the end of B/W.

Did you like it? Is there anything you didn't like? I appreciate concrit, so please tell me where you think this chapter can be improved :)


	2. Chapter 2

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 _All the gym leaders and their strongest trainers had either surrendered or been killed in the Battle of the Summit. Without them, a coordinated resistance effort was impossible, and in little over a year Plasma had taken over control of all the major cities in Unova._

 _Pockets of rebellion persisted in the underground of Castellia or the remote Northeastern forests of the continent; but our story does not start there. No, our story starts in the sleepy little town of Aspertia, where the handful of local trainers had disappeared long before the Plasma contingent marched in._

 _Mostly._

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 _ **Tread softly; scream in silence**_

 **Nate**

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"You're okay. You're safe. See? No nasty poison pokémon around. You're fine," Nate murmured as he approached the wild Braviary.

Braviary gave a weak cry and stumbled upright. Even wounded it was a majestic bird, as tall as Nate himself. Its body was covered in royal blue feathers that gave off coppery red reflections, and a crown of long silver feathers around its head and neck. Its wing, though, was grey and charred, thick red blood oozing from black streaks of flesh. As Braviary tried to extend it, it barely twitched, and the bird slumped back to the ground.

The familiar mantras ran through Nate's head, even as he continued speaking harmless nonsense to Braviary. _Airway - it's screeching. Breathing - fast, but looks okay otherwise. Circulation - loads of blood loss and a burn. Terrible. Disability - Confused and aggressive._

Braviary's large slanted eyes darted around; it screeched, its neck poised to strike like a snake's.

The Plasma trainer watching the scene from a corner of the treatment room shifted uneasily. Her name was Weiss. She wore her ginger hair tied back in a ponytail and the form-fitting synthetic leathers that the Plasmas were fond of. Her Liepard stood very still at her side, watching Braviary with the same intensity as its master.

This wasn't the first time Weiss brought back an injured pokémon to the pokécenter. It was the first time she brought a Braviary, though. The raptors were the apex predators in their food chain, and there were few local species capable of taking one down.

Braviary lunged. Nate jumped back; the beak snapped closed just inches from his face. Weiss tensed, gesturing to her Liepard. "Whiskers-"

"Wait," Nate said, holding his hand out. He knew Braviary was very hurt. Lashing out was expected.

Figuring out what had happened to that wing was of first priority. Obviously a burn, but thermal? Electrical? Chemical? If it was a chemical burn, the poison would continue to pump through Braviary's system even if they managed to put him in a pokéball. It could be the end for the majestic bird. There was no time to waste.

"It's alright," Nate murmured. "You're fine. It's okay. Here, see? I'm just a harmless human. Not gonna hurt you. Just trying to help." His tone was even, all the words spoken in the lulling cadence he'd unconsciously learned over years of medical training.

Braviary's thrashing stilled, though his breathing remained erratic. "You seem hungry," Nate continued. "I have something for you." He got out a berry from his belt pouch and held it up in his hand, which was covered by a thick rubber glove. "Want a taste?"

The giant bird's beak snapped forwards, taking the berry - and almost Nate's fingers with it. Pain lanced down Nate's hand as the sharp edge of the beak pierced through the glove. Blood trickled down his forearm, staining his rolled-up sleeve; but Nate blocked out the pain, lowering his hand slowly, and didn't let his gaze waver from the bird's.

"It's good, I know. Everybody loves Oran berries."

Braviary swallowed and watched him suspiciously.

For a wild bird used to the vastness of the sky, the windowless treatment room would feel claustrophobic. They should have done this outside… well, too late now. Wild Braviary were still Braviary, he reasoned. They might not be used to humans, but they were an intelligent species.

"There's more where that came from," he said, reaching into his pouch for another blue berry. It was one of the rare fruits that all pokémon seemed to like, though not particularly tasty to a human. He held it up, carefully this time, with his other palm extended. "But you'll have to let me touch you if you want it."

For a moment he thought Braviary might bite again. The raptor leaned forward slowly, his beady black eyes shifting between the hand holding the berry and the open palm next to it. Slowly, slowly, his beak inched forwards and brushed past Nate's open palm. Nate lay it on the side of the beak. Braviary closed his eyes, allowing the contact, and almost like a sigh, his whole body relaxed.

Nate smiled and let him have the berry. "There, there. Just like I told you, a harmless human."

Braviary crooned and the tension in the room fell.

Nate traced the curve of the beak, admiring its smooth - and lethal - shape. A slow shiver crawled up his arm and made the hairs in the back of his neck stand on end. He could feel what Braviary was feeling - pain, fear and exhaustion, and humiliation from being stuck on the ground like the worms he preyed on, and worry for his nest; but also, respect, curiosity towards this tiny human.

He'd felt this connection before, with other wild pokémon that Weiss brought back. It was a strange thing, allowing him to feel their emotional state as his own, and it never happened with trained pokémon.

"You're safe with me. I'm gonna look at your wounds, heal you up. You'll be flying again in no time," he promised.

Braviary let out a low, tired croon in response.

Nate wanted to enjoy the connection and the sense of acceptance from this majestic beast, but there was work to do. _C, circulation. Massive burn. Needs addressing now._

"My transceiver, please."

Weiss stepped forwards and handed over the small device. Nate stared at the screen of the transceiver, where his mother's face stared back, stern behind her glasses. "I saw the whole thing. That was reckless, scrub. It could have taken your arm off."

"I'm fine. What do you think?" He turned the device around so she could see the wounds. Braviary leaned forward as if to peck at it, but Nate moved it out of the way and put his hand on the beak again, stilling him. "Shhh. My m- the doctor needs to see you."

"Right a bit… Yes. A lot of soft tissue damage, looks electrical. Hm. Check for poison, just in case," Nate's mother's voice emitted from the device.

He opened the diagnostic program on the transceiver as his mother's face bleeped out. The machine ejected a small strip of paper that Nate gently dabbed on the bird's wounds, dampening it with blood, before the device swallowed the paper. _Analyzing… Species: Braviary. Blood analysis… Inflammatory markers raised. All other results within normal parameters. No toxins detected against database._ "No poison," he informed, returning to the call.

"Good. And the bones?"

"Hard to say." He inspected the burned wing, comparing its shape visually to the healthy one. "Yes. At least some distal fractures. He must have fallen from the sky and landed on the wing. But he needs to be stabilised first, I'm afraid he'll deteriorate fast."

"Alright. Half a cycle on the machine. Examine after. We don't want broken bones to mend wrong."

"Double dose of paralyz?"

"Triple, with a bird this size." She paused. "I wonder what kind of pokémon did this. I've not seen an electric attack this powerful in a while." Nate had been wondering the same thing. "Well, get to it."

"Right." Nate patted Braviary's beak again.

"And scrub?"

"Yeah?" he replied, warmth rising to his cheeks. He hated it when his mother called him that, especially at work. He struggled with setting professional boundaries enough as it was.

"You're a good doctor. Well done."

Right. He ended the call, embarrassed.

Braviary seemed a lot more at ease now. And since they'd excluded poison, it was safe to put him inside a pokéball again.

Nate gave the bird another berry, talking all the while. "My friend here has your pokéball. We need to get you in there, so we can put you in the machine and give you all the medicine for your wing. What do you say?"

Braviary eyed Weiss and her Liepard. The Plasma trainer held out a pokéball. The air that whistled through Braviary's beak almost sounded like a hiss.

"It'll be for a very short while, I promise. Trust me."

Nate sensed Braviary's hesitation so he nodded at Weiss, who pressed the button to activate the red capture laser. Both humans held their breath as the pokéball beeped once, twice, three times, and then went dark. Braviary was either too injured to resist capture or had understood what Nate tried to say.

Either way, the hardest part was over. They could now take their time to treat the pokémon without danger to his life.

But first…

Nate took off his ruined glove and examined his hand. A gash stretched between his middle and fourth fingers almost to the bottom of his palm, and it was still bleeding.

Weiss averted her eyes, looking a little pale. "That looks painful."

Nate didn't reply. Blood didn't bother him. It would be bad, though, if this injury didn't heal properly and caused him problems with the function of his hand. He walked to a door on the side of the treatment room, which opened to a smaller room, with shelves packed full of medical equipment. Weiss and her Liepard followed him in.

"I didn't know the lady doctor was your mother."

"Yeah," Nate replied. "Um, the pokécenter's kind of a family thing." He walked to the sink in the corner and put his hand under the running water, watching his blood spiral down in pink ribbons.

"Where is she, by the way? Isn't she usually with you?"

"Visiting a friend for work or something. I call her for advice on the complicated cases. Technically I'm still a student."

Weiss seemed surprised. "Wow. You handled yourself good for a student. I know a lot of trainers, and let me tell you, none of them would have been able to stand in front of that wild Braviary the way you did. You have guts."

Nate shrugged. As a pokécenter employee and doctor-in-training he probably saw more pokémon in a month than most people did in their lifetime. He was used to interacting with them, and he'd learned to read their emotions. What he'd read in Braviary's eyes hadn't been anger, but distress and confusion. The weird... connection thing he felt sometimes helped, too.

The most important thing when dealing with an injured pokémon was to appear calm and nonthreatening, and Nate was suited for both. He was short and thin for his age, and his voice was naturally soft. Pokémon tended to trust him, even those he hadn't met before.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time, actually - it's eerie how good you are. Braviary are proud. It takes a great deal to earn their respect," Weiss rambled.

"I have a lot of practice."

"Well, so do I, but I was this close to freaking out and siccing Whiskers on that bird, while you were cool as a cucumber." Whiskers, the Liepard, perked up at the mention of its name. "You'd make a scary good trainer."

"Thanks, I guess." He turned the tap off and started wrapping a bandage around his hand. Ideally he would stitch it, but he couldn't do that with his left hand. "What are you planning to do with Braviary, once he's healed?"

"Release him back to the wild. We've been watching his nest for a while, and the chicks can't survive without him yet."

He nodded. "You do good work."

"Don't change the subject on me. Why aren't you a trainer?"

Nate tensed. These days, the only way to become a trainer was to join Team Plasma. That was Weiss's real question - why he hadn't joined Team Plasma.

And honestly, Nate didn't know what to answer. It wasn't like he hadn't considered it - as a kid, being a trainer was his dream. He hadn't joined because Hugh hated them. He hadn't joined because while, in theory, he agreed with at least part of their philosophy, he didn't trust that their motives were truly altruistic. Perhaps some, like Weiss, were. But not the people who actually ran the organization.

He hadn't joined because part of the appeal of being a trainer was the freedom that came with it and being forced to obey Team Plasma made it moot.

Oh, and also, he'd seen first-hand the disastrous effects of forcefully separating pokémon from people.

He bit his lip, staring at his hand. He really should stitch it, but he wasn't dextrous enough to do it with his left. Someone else had to do it, but his mother wasn't here and she was the only trained practitioner other than himself. Weiss wouldn't be much help, considering she seemed so squeamish about blood. And he hadn't seen Hugh in weeks.

"We'll make a crazy strong trainer out of you," Weiss insisted.

"I've always wanted to be a pokédoctor," Nate lied. Maybe he could coach his sister through the process of stitching later. For now, clean bandages would have to do.

"How old are you, like, sixteen? You're telling me you want to do this for the rest of your life? When I-"

"I'm nineteen."

"Yeah, whatever. My point is, every time I come in you're polishing the front counter, bored out of your mind. If you like helping pokémon, you'd be doing much more as a member of Team Plasma."

Nate didn't reply.

Weiss clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Fine. But think about it. I can always put in a good word with the boss."

She left. Nate spent the rest of the afternoon on his own, tending to his wound and putting together a treatment plan for Braviary.

The whole healing pokémon business used to be a lot more complicated, at least according to Nate's mother, who'd been working when pokécenters were few and far between. They used to have to mix their own medicines, and tailor and measure them out for every pokémon that walked through the door. Pokécenter machines were little more than pokéball-holders that made administering the medicine a little bit easier.

Nowadays, everything was programmable. The machines worked in cycles that administered standard medicines at a fixed dose. Monitoring was automatic. Really, once the pokémon was diagnosed, there was very little thinking involved - it was just a matter of programming the cycles correctly.

The Plasmas had even installed a program on the machines that would warn them if the pokéball inserted didn't have the official seals of approval. If an illegal trainer tried to use the machine to heal their pokémon, the Plasma offices in town were immediately alerted. This scheme had let Plasma catch almost all the illegal trainers that were still out there.

Evening came with no other patients being brought to him, and Nate decided to close for the day, as always leaving a note with his Xtransceiver number on the door in case of an emergency.

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The streets of Aspertia were dark during Nate's walk home - most people had already finished their workday. He passed a couple of Plasmas and their Watchogs running in the opposite direction. From the snatches of their frantic conversation with their transceivers, Nate gathered they were chasing someone. An illegal, maybe. He stopped to watch them disappear down an alleyway, wondering who it could be. It had been a while since there was this kind of excitement in Aspertia.

Nate's own transceiver beeped.

Hugh's face greeted him on the screen. The lower half of his face was covered with some cloth, and the image bobbed up and down, as if he was running.

"Hugh? I haven't seen you in a week. Where have you b-"

"Listen, no- _zzzzt_ -explain," Hugh said, his breathing harsh. _"Zzzzt_ \- think of anywhere else - _zzzt_." He looked frazzled, nervous.

"What are you talking about? Would you stop moving? I can barely understand you."

 _"Zzzzt-_ suitcase in your garden - They were onto me, I couldn't- _zzzzt_ " He looked up, away from the device. "-here. Okay, listen, the suitcase has - _zzzt_ \- Whatever you do, don't let them have it. I have to go."

"What-"

The connection cut off. Nate stood there with the transceiver in his hand, not knowing what to do.

He hurriedly marched his way to his house, trying to ignore the telltale booms and smashes of a pokémon battle happening just a few streets over. It couldn't be Hugh, could it? Nate's rash and hard-headed best friend had always hated the Plasmas, talking about how one day he'd make them pay for what they did to his sister. But it was only words. He wasn't stupid enough to actually act on them. Right?

Heart in his throat, Nate jogged to his house and checked behind the lavender bush. There was, indeed, a suitcase, tucked between the bush and the wall. He jerked upright and looked around. The street was deserted.

Carefully, Nate bent down and retrieved the suitcase, brushing some leaves from it. It was cold to the touch, black and unremarkable. He hugged it to his chest and hurried inside, locking the door behind himself.

Not knowing what to do, he went to the kitchen and set the suitcase down on the table, shooting another nervous glance outside the window. Where was Hugh? Had they caught him? He thought about going out to check, to see what was going on, but he couldn't leave the suitcase here, unsupervised, and he definitely couldn't take it with him, he didn't even know what was in it... although the cold shiver of fear down his back suspected.

In truth, Nate was furious at his best friend. He vanished for a week with no warning or explanation, left his family and his friends behind and didn't even bother picking up when they called. Then suddenly he came back as a what? A smuggler? A terrorist? What if they caught him? How could he be so reckless, and so blasé about pulling Nate into this mess?

The sound of the front door opened, making him jump. He reached for the suitcase, but fumbled it and it clattered to the floor. Thankfully, it didn't open.

"What are you doing?" asked Mei, his twin sister, as she walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in her Plasma trainee uniform, her twin buns tidily tucked under the regulation hat. A duffel bag with her other gear hung from her shoulder. She leaned around the table, noticing what he was reaching for. "What's that?"

Nate snatched up the suitcase and set it on his knees. "Uh, work stuff."

"What's up with your hand?"

He looked down at it. With all that had happened, he'd forgotten about his wound. The sudden movement of grabbing the suitcase had reopened it and mottles of blood were starting to become visible on the bandage. He closed his hand on reflex to hide it. "Scared pokémon injured it, but I'm fine. What happened? I thought you had that training camp tonight."

"I did," Mei said, taking her coat off and chucking it on the table. "Until the alarms went off. Apparently they spotted an illegal. It's why they sent us home early." She put down her trainee badge next to her coat; "Hey, maybe it's on TV already," and picked up the remote with one hand, while with the other she grabbed a chair and turned it around, sitting on it backwards.

"-remain in their houses until this incident has been sorted," said the commentator's voice, causing Nate's already anxious nerves to jump. The blurry image showed the plaza in front of the old Town Hall, where several shapes seemed to be moving, and flashes of light, shouts and explosions. "We have been prevented from getting closer, but as you can see, a pokémon battle is taking place between Plasma trainers and an illegal, who appears to be a young male with dark hair."

Young male with dark hair... The knuckles of Nate's good hand where bone-white where he gripped the suitcase.

"One second, I am receiving new information. We have just extracted an image of this individual captured from the pokéshop earlier today. If you have any information on him, please contact your area's Security Supervisor."

A picture appeared on the screen.

"Hey, isn't that..." Mei trailed off.

"... Yeah, it is."

It was Hugh, undeniably, even with the lower half of his face covered, caught on camera as he exited the pokéshop. A shiver went down Nate's spine.

 _What did you do, you reckless idiot?_

His sister glanced back at him, a question in her eyes. Nate shook his head. "I don't know anything."

Her eyes slid down to the suitcase which he was still holding tightly in his lap, flickered to his bandaged hand, and then back up to his face. Her expression shifted to realization. Instantly, Nate knew she knew.

The two siblings stared at each other, both of them looking like they had seen a ghost. "If you did know something," she ventured, voice shaky, "you should report it. I know Hugh is your friend, but illegals get arrested and," she swallowed. "And worse. It would be really bad if they found out you knew something and you didn't say anything."

"I don't know anything," Nate repeated, heart beating a mile a minute. "I haven't seen him in a week."

She nodded slowly. "Right," she said. "Maybe they got it wrong and Hugh didn't do anything. Must be a misunderstanding."

"Must be," Nate agreed.

"I'll do my best to find out what happened." She picked up her Plasma trainee badge and left the kitchen. She paused at the door for a second, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end walked further into the house silently.

He breathed out. He was certain she knew, or at least suspected, that Nate had something to do with this. He needed to get rid of the suitcase. Handing it in to the Plasmas and explaining what had happened was the most reasonable option. Nate was the kind of person that was easily content with his life, he felt no need to jeopardize the peace and tranquility of his life in Aspertia. Handing in the suitcase was the logical thing, the safe thing. Maybe if he handed it in, they would let Hugh go.

So why did he feel like it wasn't the _right_ thing?

 _Whatever you do, don't let them have it._

That night, in his room and against all his better judgement, he opened the suitcase.

And that was the night that his worst fear, and his most deep, secret hope became realized.

Three pokéballs, cool and smooth in his sweaty hands.

Nate stared at them for a moment, a globe of anxiety in his throat. Mei was right; this was crazy. If they caught him with this, arrest was the least of his worries. N was notoriously harsh on illegals - most of them got sent for life imprisonment to the castle at the top of Mt Nimbus and were never seen again. It was rumoured N fed them to his dragon.

Nate transferred the pokeballs to a toy box on his shelf, trying not to look at them. This was absolutely crazy. He grabbed some haphazard medical notes from his desk and shoved them in the suitcase before kicking it under his bed. Why was he doing this, taking this risk? It was so unlike him! He didn't know, but he did it anyway.

For the next half hour, he stood in the middle of his room breathing fast, wondering what to do next.

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A.N Wellllll I updated this? Tell me what you think!


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